Storm Clouds
by Zorra Reed
Summary: Friends or Foes…secret-keepers or bullies…trust or betrayal? Before the Ronins were friends, they were dangerous enemies. Rating has been changed to Mature!
1. Prologue: Scorned

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic. Ronin Warriors is property of Bandai.  
**Copyright: **_© 2012 Moonrise Inn Publications  
_**Warnings:** AU. Pre-Wars. Sexual content.  
**Challenge Response:** Personal challenge issued by Valandra  
**Authors Note: **_Revised chapter_. Previously, I posted the wrong draft, my apologies.

* * *

**Storm Clouds  
**Co-Author: _Zorra Reed & GunpowderBlue  
_Proofread: W.C.

Prologue  
Scorned

_February 1987_

It hurt him to know that other kids were always pointing at his back and laughing; their hateful puns and scornful looks boring into his person, no doubt, in an attempt to rip his confidence and self esteem apart from the inside out. In their eyes, he could do nothing right: always clumsy, always looking over his shoulder, always worried about what the person behind him is doing or saying. He had no friends. He didn't even have people that _pretended_ to be his friends. No one bothered to even _use_ him…he was so low on the charts. A disaster, a menace, a clown: he wasn't worth the dirt under a dog's fingernails — they'd told him as much.

He was a failure and was steadily shrinking in on himself. He would rather spend his days wishing he could disappear than deal with all the uncertainties a certain jackass, sitting behind him in science class, was impressing upon his psyche. What a wild _hoot_ that _jerk_ thought it was, to place signs or other obscenities on the "new kid's" back…or chewing gum in the thick locks of his hair. So worried by such actions was he, that it resulted in his inattention to the assignments. Paranoia had settled in early on: from science, to math, to gym until all his classes suffered and any attempt made to reclaim his grades in study hall or at home where thwarted by his inability to concentrate. He was exhausted from stress.

Sorrowful blue eyes lifted to the landscape of the suburban park, reflecting on the events of the day rather than see the handful of children running amuck in the late afternoon sun.

His peers, in his opinion, had gone too far in their prank earlier that day — crossing a line that should never have been crossed — when in their foolishness, they'd thrown a crumpled paper to him during his meal break which he'd curiously, and with no small amount of trepidation, spread flat. The sight that greeted his eyes went beyond disturbing imagery to constitute as a true threat: him sitting on the cafeteria floor with his hands bound, a lone figure pointing the barrel of a gun to his temple, the characters in the background standing in an arc around them and laughing. He'd re-crumpled the paper in anger and stuffed it into his bag; then abandoned school shortly thereafter, retreating to the solitude of the park to clear the fire from his mind.

How hard it had been not to cry in those moments following the discovery and depth of their hatred for him; but he'd learned long ago the danger of showing emotion in front of ones enemies…especially tears. The only safe place to cry was in his bedroom in the dead of night where his pillow could stiffly the harsh sobs.

So here he was, free from authority and left to his own devices, sitting in the bitter cold atop the jungle gym; watching as his breath formed puffs of steam, and leaving the large fluffy snowflakes gathering on the shoulders of his uniform undusted.

"You're going to end up catching your death of cold sitting out here without a proper coat," drawled a male voice from off to his left. Stepping closer to the jungle gym when the raven-haired teen failed to answer, the newcomer pulled himself up to stand on the lowest bar, his arms draped over the bars at shoulder level. "Going to tell me why you're out here Ryo, or do I have to guess?"

Shrugging his shoulders noncommittally, Ryo eyed the teenager at the edge of his vision. The black Gakuran hugging the male's narrow form matched that of his own, indicating they attended the same school. "Well…?" the teenager prompted with a drawl to his tone that failed to impress and only served to darken Ryo's mood further. For a moment, Ryo envisioned himself ripping out handfuls of the cheery-red mop escaping from beneath the strangers grey wool cap. Frown deepening, as though he could sense Ryo's thoughts, the cheery-head pulled himself up to sit beside the moping teen. "You didn't used to be so quiet. Last time I saw you…you were chasing that cat of yours around the living room…or was that the other way around…it was chasing you."

Ryo pressed his lips at the mention of his tiger. Outside of his parents, no one was supposed to know about his unofficial 'pet'. More on edge now then he'd ever been at school, Ryo continued to purposefully ignore the older boy sitting beside him and turned his woeful gaze upon the cloudy sky instead.

"Your mother asked my mom if I wouldn't mind looking after you while they're away." Ryo's parents had left that morning for a weeklong business trip. They'd debated about sending him to his Aunt's in Cairo for the duration but had eventually decided it would be too expensive for such a short trip. Besides, he was now old enough and responsible enough to stay on his own…or so they'd said.

Four months had passed since Ryo and his family had moved to this country — his father's homeland of Japan. Having originated from the warm climate of Africa, the sudden change to cold weather had been both a shock and a stroke of poor luck for Ryo's declining health.

Ryo shot the other boy a quizzical look, expression filled with distrust and annoyance. Who was this to _claim_ such control over him? A moment later, he gripped the slippery bars beneath him and hoisted himself up, doing a flip as he dismounted the jungle gym. Straightening, once he'd completed his perfect dismount, Ryo stuffed his gloveless hands in the pockets of his pants for warmth. With a final backwards glance to his disturber, he headed off down the narrow boot-treaded path that traced the sidewalk, his own feet dragging as he trekked through the blanket of white crystals.

The other followed at a more sedate pace as far as the street, watching as the young teen walked off in a different direction then he knew the house to be. He shrugged and turned down the opposite path. Ryo would have to come home sometime.

But sometime never came. And when the sun rose the next day, Ryo was nowhere to be found.

_-TBC-_


	2. Rowen: Friend or Foe

**Authors Note: **_Revised chapter_. Previously, I posted the wrong draft, my apologies. If you've not re-read the first chapter (prologue) please do so at this time.

* * *

**Storm Clouds  
**Co-Author: _Zorra Reed & GunpowderBlue  
_Proofread: W.C.

Chapter One  
Rowen: Friend or Foe

Morning found Ryo wandering about the downtown area, seemingly unaware of the slowly stirring streets and the early risers beginning to gather as the cafés opened. He only looked up when he reached the end of the road he was strolling, his attention caught by a grim-looking battered apartment complex across the street from where he stood. Realization dawned then; he'd wandered from the downtown area to the outskirts of the city, only to discover he'd come to far west and now was lost in a bad part of town. This area was unfamiliar. He'd not ventured this far from home before and his experiences at school had only served in squashing any desire to investigate and explore the town further (a misfortune he currently regretted).

Failing to suppress a sigh that spoke volumes for his current mood, Ryo turned back up the path with the intent of trying to make his way home. He paused in his actions to look back with a detached sort of interest when the front entrance of the complex was suddenly forced open, the wooden door striking the brick wall with enough force to splinter it. In the same moment, a skinny twig-of-a-boy was shoved roughly through the doorway where he slipped on a patch of ice before landing in a nest of snow.

The fallen teenager picked himself out of the drift just in time to reflexively raise his arms to shield his face as his backpack came hurtling towards him, the movement causing him to slip one more time on the ice. "Hey!" he protested with a nasty disposition as he picked himself out of the snow for the second time that morning.

The man, whom Ryo guessed to be the boy's father (if their blue hair was any indication of relationship), stepped forward with a raised hand to forestall his son's need to vocally express himself further: "Rowen, this care-less behavior and attitude you've had this past year is wearing on my last nerve." Despite his scruff pre-maturely aged appearance, Ryo found the gentleman's voice carried well in the morning air and held within it a certain authority that was not to be trifled with; although, he could clearly detect the subtle undertones indicating it was weighted by weariness and burden as well.

"If you don't straighten yourself out _real quick_,I promise,you'll be looking for somewhere else to live. I'll not have such a disrespectful, out-of-control _brat_ living under my roof stirring trouble. Don't speak…" he raised his hand once more to silence his son's forthcoming protest "…just listen. You get yourself to school, put those damn books to use and mind your teachers. If you cut class again…don't bother coming home. Am I understood?"

The one called Rowen hesitated a moment only, using the pause to check his temperament as he slung his weighted bag over his right shoulder. "Perfectly Father," he replied in a clipped tone, eyes as icy as the layers coating the sidewalk.

"Good." Touma's father, not really a bad guy at heart, nudged his head to the left, indicating the child should leave before more was said. "Now get going."

Watching as the man turned back into the building without waiting to see if he was obeyed or not, Ryo failed to realize the blue-haired teenager had crossed the street and was moving towards him. Back stiffening, having no time to make a run for it, he held his breath in anticipation as the teenager stepped up to him, greeting Ryo with the same cold expression he'd given his father. Ryo suppressed a shutter, never having met someone with such calculating eyes before. Was this a friend or foe?

Sudden, unexpected movement from Rowen startled Ryo and he found his chilled hand trapped within Rowen's paralyzing grip, the teenager meshing the bones with more strength then Ryo would have given him credit for. "Got something you wanna say?" Rowen snared, his midnight-colored eyes unraveling Ryo from the inside. "No? You seemed rather interested in my conversation a few moments ago."

When Ryo hissed in response, Rowen's expression twisted with sick enjoyment. With another swift movement, he swept Ryo's feet out from under him and…twisting his opponent's arm up behind him…flipped him in the air…only to straddle his legs once he'd landed. Ryo was effectively pinned, both his arms twisted behind him and bound at the wrists by one of Rowen's hands. Breath knocked from his lungs, and a stinging sensation in his shoulders, Ryo's temper was outclassed by his terror, the drawing he'd received at school coming to mind. He froze, paralyzed, eyes clenched as he waited for the blows that would surely follow next.

"Hold up…." muttered Rowen, something wasn't right and he felt it. Pulling his blow at the last moment, his fist a hairs-breath from the back of Ryo's skull, Rowen eyed the pinned youth with suspicion. "You're giving up before we even start?" he heard himself question; Ryo's fighting spirit having stirred then faded completely in the time it took for Rowen to trap his arms. His American accent was not lost on Ryo this time either, indicating he was as much a foreigner as Ryo himself.

'Now that I think about…there is something familiar about him, too.' Free hand reaching around to cup Ryo's pale cheek, turning it enough to catch a glimpse of dazzling blue, Rowen smirked, seeing the fire kindled within the depths of Ryo's eyes. 'Definitely familiar…. His uniform would suggest he's from my school, as well. Oh…this is going to bug me all day!' Releasing the trapped teen, Rowen stood and straightened his jacket before pulling his discarded backpack over his shoulder. "Another time perhaps…. When you're not such a wreck," he stated, turning his back to Ryo. "If we're going to go at it, I expect a real challenge from you."

Then he was gone; across the street and down an alleyway before Ryo could lift himself off the ground. Remaining as he was for another handful of minutes, not trusting his legs to work or for Rowen to not return and finish what he'd begun, Ryo's thoughts dragged him back to his earlier question: 'Foe. Definitely a foe.'

-TBC-


	3. Confrontation

**Storm Clouds  
**Co-Author: _Zorra Reed & GunpowderBlue_

Chapter Two  
Confrontation

It was around six that evening when Ryo finally returned home, blue and shaking. He'd skipped school that day; and after a night and day of wandering about the city, he wanted nothing more then to curl up in his semi-warm bed and sleep. Unlocking the kitchen door he stepped inside, not bothering with the lights as he closed and relocked the door behind him. Sliding out of his soaked windbreaker, he dropped it over the back of one of the dinning chairs and promptly removed his equally wet shoes and socks which he left by the table to dry. He then started for the stairs, eager to change.

A familiar voice stopped him midway up the steps and Ryo turned back, making his way cautiously into the front room of the brownstone. "Yeah...Yeah...he's here…. I think he was just out for a walk or something…. Yes...yes Uncle, I'll be sure to tell him." The familiar brown eyes of the cherry-head locked with Ryo's as the boy entered the living room. He held his finger to his lips to indicate silence as he moved around the couch to stand by the end table, the phone cord tangled around his person. "Yes…good-bye."

The teenager from the park twisted his arm above him to unwind the phone cord from his body before setting the receiver back in its cradle. After a moment of silent regard — his glare saying many unpleasant things about Ryo — he spoke, "You like to take your sweet time getting home, don't you?" Ryo shrugged, undaunted. "Where have you been?" demanded the teen. "I had to lie to your father about where you were last night and again just now. The school called and left a message for your parents when you didn't show today."

Ryo's eyes shifted to the answering machine nested against the phone, its digital screen flashing "NEW MESSAGE" in bright green letters. Closing the distance between himself and the stranger, Ryo pressed the _Delete_ button on the metallic surface: "Message Erased," the automated female voice spoke. "Problem solved." Ryo folded his arms across his chest, only in part to warm himself, and turned his own impatient glare on the strange boy that kept following him; the teen's use of the word "Uncle" best ignored for the time being. "Who the _fuck_ are you?"

"That's a fine way to greet your cousin," the red-head snapped back, his arms dropping to his sides in exasperation!

"I don't have a cousin," Ryo growled growing board with this idiot's continuous games.

"Sure you do…and I'm he," the teen replied, thrusting his thumb into his own chest to indicate himself. "I'm your Fathers' brother's son. I really thought you were old enough to remember me last time…. Oh well, name's Fayt Hakobishi, our dad's are half-brothers…different fathers."

Ryo glared at his cousin's offered hand as if it were a viper, causing the elder teen to withdraw the handshake. "You're not Japanese," Ryo pointed out, "your noise is to long and pointy. In fact, you look nothing like my uncle." …Not that he could remember what his uncle looked like to begin with, but why pass on an opportunity to insult the annoying intruder?

Fayt sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off an oncoming headache. _Was this really how it was going to be?_ 'This is going to be a long weekend,' he realized — Ryo unwilling to give him an inch. "Neither are you," he pointed out sternly, rubbing Ryo's half-blood status in his face with a bit more flare then Ryo had just done to him. "Since when are Japanese so dark-skinned and unruly kept?" Reaching out suddenly and flipping a lock of Ryo's long hair over his fingers — startling the younger and causing him to take a defensive step back — Fayt was pleased to see the youth bristle but say nothing…so he continued, "I take after my mother who is German…and like her, I don't respond well to insults. Clear?"

"Crystal," Ryo responded with a sarcastic snare.

"Don't be a snot Ryo," Fayt warned.

"Just get out of my house!" Ryo snapped back his glare darkening. "I never said you could come in here."

Fayt pulled a set of keys from his pocket to dangle before Ryo. "Listen here Cuzzo, I don't need your permission. Your parents left me in charge. Clearly they don't trust you, and after last night I have to say they have good reason."

The effect was immediate. Struggling to contain the sudden rush of fury that rose within him, Ryo's body trembled as he sputtered and raved silently. 'How _dare _he! How _dare_ this **moron** come into _my_ home, _my_ life, and tell _me_ "I'm untrustworthy"! He doesn't even know me! That stupid two-faced crap-eating monster! How dare he!' Ryo lifted blazing eyes to his self-proclaimed cousin, the teenager bearing a smug twist upon his lips which gloated of his victory. In that moment, the instant where their eyes meet, blue upon brown, in that moment Ryo knew in his heart that no lie had passed between them. 'Cousin or not,' Ryo thought vehemently his own lips taking on a cruel twist, 'I play by my own rules.'

"Get out."

"Come again?" Fayt blinked stupidly, the smile falling from his lips as confusion creased his deep brow.

"I didn't invite you into my home," Ryo repeated, speaking deliberately slow, as if explaining himself to a dense child, "so I am telling you now to 'get out.'"

"Be that as it may…" Fayt moved, slipping between Ryo and the end table to settle himself on the couch and taking up the television remote in the process. "…I'm here now and I'm not leaving. Go upstairs and warm yourself or stay here and freeze in those wet clothes. I don't care. Now if you don't mind…you're blocking the TV."

Eye's widening at the discourteous way he was spoken too, Ryo found himself floundering for words. At a complete loss, and admittedly, too angry and too cold to do much else, he gave the character on his couch the bird before rushing to the stairs and up to his room.

Fayt sighed again, unsure if he was frustrated with his younger cousin or pleased for having pushed the younger's buttons. "Well, he was asking for it. I tried to be nice." Pressing the power button on the remote Fayt skimmed the on-screen television guide before making his selection. He settled in, feet lounging on the coffee table as the opening credits to his favorite anime played. His best friend was due over in an hour and they'd made plans to dye his hair teal just to piss off the school administrators.

"I love being me."

-TBC-


	4. Desires

**Authors Note: **This story now contains sensual content.

**Storm Clouds  
**Co-Author: _Zorra Reed & GunpowderBlue  
_Proofread: W.C.

Chapter Three  
Desires

Ryo rolled over and moaned as the doorbell echoed through the house pulling the teen from his restless slumber. Rolling out of bed he groggily made his way to the stairs, fervently praying it was a Sales Representative. That way, he wouldn't feel bad about the impending verbal thrashing he was about to let loose on them for daring to interrupt his rest. He was stopped on the stairs mid-step, his hazed mind struggling to make sense of the strange occurrences surrounding his life suddenly when Fayt cut across his path and beat him to the door.

"Hey Rowen...geez, you look like Hell warmed over…problems with your Dad again?" Apparently, the red-head was acquaintances with whoever stood at the door. Moving aside Fayt beckoned the visitor to enter out of the rain.

"Just the usual," the visitor replied, his accent catching Ryo's attention.

'It couldn't be….could it…the kid from this morning?' Already resigned to having his self-proclaimed cousin living under his roof for the next day or so, Ryo accepted the fact that another bizarre person was going to impose and there was little he could do about it. Still, the intrusion made him furious and he stalked down the stairs. Without a word, he pushed against Rowen until the boy was forced to step backwards, out the door. Turning to grab the arm of the red-head, Ryo hauled him outside too, then stepped back inside and closed and locked the front door. Dusting his hands off in satisfaction, he smiled and made his way back to his room to resume his nap.

"Not very friendly is he?" Rowen deadpanned as he shivered on the porch.

"No, and he's becoming a serious pain in the ass!" Fayt punctuated the words through clenched teeth as he extracted the key from his jeans pocket to unlock the door and let the two of them back inside. Shutting the door hard enough for the grumpy teen upstairs to hear he called out in a boisterous voice. "Honey, I'm home!"

A door opened upstairs a moment later; then was slammed shut multiple times in response.

Rowen wrapped his arms about his waist as he chuckled at his best friend's expression. Fayt smiled and rolled his eyes. "I was going to say 'keep it down because my cousin's upstairs sleeping', but that's a mute point now. Alright then…" he sighed, the two of them entering the kitchen. Finding two lush hand towels in the drawer by the fridge, he tossed one to Rowen to dry off with and scrubbed at his hair with the other. "You brought the stuff?"

"I did," Rowen shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and let it drop into a nearby chair. Unzipping the lower front pocket, he withdrew a dark box and turned it over to examine the instructions on the back. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely, let's get started." Fayt pulled out the chair closest to him and straddled it; the towels, bowls and other supplies that Rowen would need already organized on the table top.

"Alright," Rowen agreed reluctantly, but already a mischievous grin was spreading across his lips. "Now stay still, I wouldn't want to get the bleach in your eyes."

OooO

"So…." The minutes had stretched by in silence as Rowen coated Fayt's hair in the foul-smelling bleach. It had taken Fayt just as long to venture up the courage to broach a delicate topic of conversation he knew would displease Rowen. "That new guy at school…Cye Mouri...what's he like?"

The question caught Rowen somewhat off guard, something in his eyes darkening. "Why ask me?"

"I'm told he's your age...so that means you have classes with him, right?"

"I have classes with you too." Rowen evaded the question with one of his own, "what'd you care?"

"We're both in advanced classes Rowen; of course we share some together." Fayt parried, voice agitated but focused on his query. "Just tell me what you know about him. I hear he's from England. Aren't you just the least bit interested yourself?"

"Not really," Rowen said lightly. "And no, he's not from England, he's from here, he only spent the last two years in England as a transfer student. Now, stop blushing, I can feel the heat from here. Mouri-san ain't like that, so you can put that thought out of your head, right now."

"And what's that suppose to mean?" Fayt took the defensive. "Just because I ask about a guy…you all of a sudden decide that I want to screw him? Thanks for the bode of confidence." It was a ploy and he knew it, and given by the sudden yank on his hair, apparently Rowen did too.

"It's the _way_ you asked," Rowen pointed out, lathering the bleach into his buddy's hair with more force then necessary. "Don't you think I have better things to do with my time then help you chase after some younger pretty-boy who's accent has your 'boys' all pinched. If you've got an _itch_ find someone else to handle it. Hell, get your cousin to do you, that'd be a sight."

"Don't be sick, Rowen!" Fayt snapped heatedly. Twisting about suddenly, Fayt snared his friend by the wrists, holding him fast as their eyes met with a clashing ire. For a moment, they engaged each other in a silent power-play, each determined to win. Then Fayt suddenly calmed, a nasty smirk playing over his previously pressed lips with a sickly sweetness. "Ryo's far better suited for you."

"WHAT?" Rowen's eyes widened as he tugged free of Fayt's hold, his confusion melting into revulsion. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not in the least." Fayt begun, "just think about it: you're both stubborn, you both have a fiery temper when angered, and you're both just so damn obnoxious. He's the perfect match for you. Why, the fight for dominance alone would be-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Rowen hissed, gripping Fayt's head and forcibly twisting it back around; the teen's body moving with the moment until he was properly seated in his chair again. "People don't realize just how much of a twisted bastard you are."

"You mean...we are," Fayt corrected sternly. "You're no angel."

"Whatever," Rowen growled bringing the conversation to an end. He continued on with his work, Fayt's words twisting their way inside him as they searched out and exploited the darker nature hidden inside the teenager. It was true, Rowen was no angel...in fact, if his father ever learned of some of the things Rowen had done, he was sure to brand the child as a Demon Spawn and be done with him. Deciding it was best to lighten the mood before more harm was done Rowen gave a silent sigh to dismiss his melancholy thoughts and ran his fingers through Fayt's hair a final time. "You're parents are going to kill you when they learn what you've done to your hair."

"I don't see how that's your problem. Am I done?" The stuff weighted his head down and he was sure that he looked like a bad version of Al Pacino in "Sacrifice".

"Yeah," Rowen muttered, pulling the plastic gloves from his hands. "You're done. Go rinse."

Fayt hesitated. "So, what if I want to get to know Cye a little better…even as a friend."

"You're still on about that?" Rowen couldn't believe it. Fayt was persistent. "He doesn't need friends like you and me. That guys a good kid. He deserves better."

"Perhaps," Fayt agreed his voice indicating there was more to follow. "Imagine, though, what it'd be like to hold him in your arms, pinned between us with fingers reaching as he squirms from an unquenched desire. His body overloaded with sensation as we stroke his soft, freckled flesh into weeping hardness. He'd beg us for release and we'd give it to him. Rough...deep...lustful…release."

"He'd never consent," Rowen heard himself whisper around a lump in his throat. He shifted uneasily, his jeans tightening around his groin as he listened to Fayt's words; the images the other was setting into his mind not the first of their kind regarding the new student.

Fayt twisted in his chair again with a pleased grunt at hearing the thickness in Rowen's voice. He eyed his friend up and down slowly; Rowen's softly panting lips flushed and ripe for the taking. Parting his own lips with a lash of his tongue, Fayt was pleased to see Rowen's hips shift forward in wanting (the motion uncontrolled) bringing a deeper flush of embarrassment to Rowen's already colored cheeks.

"Rowen." Fayt spoke the others name deliberately as he stood; Rowen's eyes tracking his movement before fluttering shut in a moment of weakness as his lips were grazed by Fayt's own.

Fingers closed on Rowen's hips and slid down the sensitized youth's thighs. Fayt's thumbs tracing the natural V between his legs. Lips brushed against the fluttering pulse in his throat. Rowen felt faint: adrenalin surging through his body, sensation leaving him paralyzed in his place, lust bulging against the material of his pants. He was helpless, reduced to indulging the daydream of Cye folded between his legs; his soft lips dancing over the firmness of Rowen's manhood.

Warm...soft...moist lips...teasing...sucking...nipping. Rowen gave a start, lips parting with a cry as he realized his fantasy was warping into the bleached head of his best friend, perched on the edge of the kitchen chair with his face firmly tucked against Rowen's abdomen. Fingers pressed into the tender flesh of his uncovered buttocks...and Oh God...lips pulling with ferocity at the caught flesh exposed between them.

"Oh God...Oh God..." Rowen gasped for air, his fingers folding over Faty's shoulder with intent but failing to push the other away. "Oh God..." he felt the surge of need in his belly, the ache in his balls as they swelled with his juices.

Fayt sucked his lips over the risen flesh as he debarred the meat from his mouth, his tongue swiping over the slick shaft in parting. It bounce and bobbed freely in the cool air between them, stirred only by the heated breath passing so closely over it before being showered from tip to base in a delicate splay of feathery kisses. "Then we don't ask his permission."

Fayt's words were sobering, drawing Rowen to the surface of his awareness and slamming into him with a heavy dose of reality. Then, Fayt's mouth was around his heavy sacs and Rowen's senses were scrambled once again; all concerns over the wrongness Fayt plotted for them gone in an explosion of milky heat down the elders constricting throat.

OooO

Hair bleached and color settling; Rowen pulled the stained latex gloves from his hands and shoved them back into their box along with the extra solution and empty supply bottles. Swabbing at the drips leaking from beneath the plastic cap Fayt wore with a paper towel, he adjusted the towel around the teens shoulders before proceeding to clean the area of evidence. "All finished...Blondie," he snickered a few minutes later. "Go rinse."

"It had better not be blond! I told you blue...shit...no way in hell am I going to sit through school and have to look like Mr. 'Head of the Student Body' Date, I swear that guy sat on a stick or something and it grew into a redwood."

"No, no," Rowen smirked, bringing his arms up defensively. "Not blond," and it wasn't, he'd used Strawberry Blond.

"I swear Rowen...if this is one of your stupid pranks…"

"I ain't prank'n," Rowen muttered, quickly crossing the room to retrieve a soda from the fridge. In truth, he just wanted to be safely out of arms reach and Fayt knew it. "Now go rinse before it sits to long."

Fayt sighed with foreboding and padded his way upstairs barefoot, past his cousin's closed bedroom door, and into the restroom to put his head in the bath and rinse all the excess dye from his hair.

Rowen took the opportunity to order two large pizza's on his friends tab, his stomach growling with demand. He'd not eaten since the night before and was tempted to make it three pizza's but with rising prices he wasn't sure Fayt had enough to cover so many. 'It'd serve him right having to pay for three.' Rowen thought bitterly, his mood boarding on vindictive. 'Why the hell did I let him touch me like that again? And to use Cye against me like that just to satisfy his kink!' It was bad enough that Rowen had a secret crush on the new student, one he wasn't willing to reveal to his lustful friend, but to find out that Fayt was already staking out what _should have been_ his territory, was unforgivable.

"Fayt you bastard! I know you have a thing for younger teens, but do you always have to take from the innocent ones?"

OooO

Thirty minutes passed before Fayt made an appearance downstairs again, hair mostly dry and sporting a vibrant blue. "You were making me wonder."

Rowen leaned back against the counter as he examined his handy work, for all appearances the incident between the two of them having never have happened. "Why in God's name you'd want to look like me is beyond my reckoning. I swear, if people start talk'n like we're a couple or something, I really am gonna make you look like Date-sama." He crushed the empty soda can in his hand to emphasize his point. "Pizza should be here any minute. Hope you've got enough."

"What pizza?"

Just then the bell rang. "Opps, there they are now." Rowen pushed himself away from the counter and tapped Fayt on the shoulder as he passed, leaving the kitchen to rest in the living room. He'd already set out the plates and drinks on the coffee table in preparation. "Oh, and don't forget to give a large tip, they did come all this way in the storm."

"Dammit Rowen!"

-TBC-


End file.
